


Emergence

by nubianamy



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Play, Blow Jobs, F/M, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Multi, Season/Series 03, Threesome - F/M/M, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-17
Updated: 2015-02-17
Packaged: 2018-03-13 11:01:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3379100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nubianamy/pseuds/nubianamy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Something is bothering Allison, and Stiles wants to figure out what it is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sselene](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sselene/gifts).



> Happy Rarepair exchange! The setting is kind of nebulously third season, in which there is a Darach but nobody has figured out anything yet. Warnings for lots of discussion about oral sex and awkward conversations in general, and extreme sappiness, plus a scary chapter because Teen Wolf. I think this story needs a chapter at the end with the three of them. If you agree with me, let me know and I'll totally write one.

"Emergence... is higher-order complexity arising out of chaos in which novel, coherent structures coalesce through interactions among the diverse entities of a system. Emergence occurs when these interactions disrupt, causing the system to differentiate and ultimately coalesce into something novel." - Peggy Holman

"The whole is greater than the sum of its parts." - Aristotle

* * *

 

Stiles figured out a long time ago that being best friends with a werewolf meant that he would have to give some things up. Winning any race ever, for example. Stiles knew better than to let the words  _race you_  slip out of his mouth around Scott, because the thing that Scott would do would be so ridiculously fast and over so quickly that that Stiles wouldn't even know it had happened before Scott was already relaxing with a cool drink in his hand. Not that Scott would usually do that, unless he was actively trying to be a shit. Most of the time, Scott worked very hard not to be faster at everything than Stiles, and Stiles could tell, and he mostly appreciated it.

But the having-a-girlfriend thing, that had nothing at all to do with Scott being a werewolf. Stiles felt entitled to feel annoyed by that. Scott was a nice guy, sure, but he wasn't better looking than Stiles, and he had no conversational skills at all. They were both juniors. Stiles had enough status now to laugh and joke with Lydia and Danny in the hallway. Stiles couldn't think of any reason why he  _shouldn't_  have a girlfriend by now.

It took him a long time to figure out why he didn't, and that didn't happen until after he and Allison started spending Tuesday evenings together.

The first night Stiles' dad started his Tuesday overnight shifts, Scott was grounded. It wasn't the kind of grounded that let him sneak out after his mom was asleep, but rather the kind that meant  _do it again and you're really screwed._ Even Allison wasn't going to go against Mrs. McCall when she was pissed.

Stiles caught up to Allison after trigonometry. "How'd you do on the quiz?"

"Fine." She shrugged. "You?"

"You know." He shrugged back, and she nodded. She knew he always did well on tests and quizzes, better than most people, including her. They didn't talk about how well he did in front of Scott, but it was nice to know that she knew.

"Hey, I was thinking," he said. "My dad's at the station tonight on a double shift. Scott usually stays over on nights when he's working late, but tonight…."

"Yeah." She squinted at him. "You want me to come over instead?"

He nodded hesitantly. "If your folks wouldn't mind?"

"They wouldn't if your dad said it was okay." She looked at him curiously. "What did you have in mind?"

"Well…" He smiled. "We could study for the next trigonometry quiz."

That made her laugh. "That doesn't sound much like fun. Or, actually, all that necessary?"

"No, but it would give me something to  _say_  we're doing instead of admitting I'm too freaked out to stay home alone."

"Okay," she said. "I'll be there after dinner."

Stiles thought something else had been bothering Allison, something beside Scott being grounded. He wasn't sure what it would take to get her to talk about it, though. Allison was a pretty private person, good at keeping secrets, and she didn't gossip about other people.

When Stiles told Scott about Tuesday, he seemed both pleased and relieved.

"Yeah, that's a good idea," he said. "There's no reason for you to deal with being there on your own, and it'll give Allison something to do. I don't want her to feel guilty about me being grounded."

"We'll try not to have too much fun," said Stiles.

* * *

His dad made him dinner and left it in the fridge, but he was already at work by the time Stiles got home on Tuesday after school. There was a note on the table next to two twenties:  _Call me if you need anything._ Stiles knew that meant  _if you start having a panic attack or something fucked up happens._ Neither of those sounded like a lot of fun to him, but he appreciated the gesture.

"I know I'm supposed to not care about being alone in the house," Stiles said to Allison when she arrived. "But I can't stop thinking about all the stuff I've seen — all the really freaking scary stuff."

"It's fine," she said, stepping through the door. "Really, I get it. And I've got a crossbow in the car. You want me to bring it in with me?"

He grinned. "You carry a crossbow in your  _car?_ "

"Better that than in my locker, right?"

They didn't do any studying of any kind, as it happened, but neither of them had a quiz coming up, so it wasn't like there was a reason to feel like they should have. They watched the spy drama that aired on Tuesday nights, which both of them liked, while finishing off the frozen cookie dough in Stiles' freezer. He showed her where the guest room was, but decided not to explain how it used to be his mom's sewing room.

At one point Stiles suggested they try looking for Scott online, but Allison shook her head.

"His mom took everything away, his phone and his Internet connection. It won't be too long until he gets them back." She nudged his shoulder. "What, I'm not totally boring you, am I?"

"Not  _totally,"_  he said, dodging her outraged return assault. "Okay, okay, not at all! Seriously, you're the most interesting house guest I've ever had. And the most mysterious."

She took a seat on the edge of his bed. "What do you mean,  _mysterious_?"

"Well, I can tell something's bothering you, but I haven't been able to figure out what it is."

"Nothing's bothering me," she said, making a face. "Don't be silly."

"Because you can tell me, you know. Whatever it is. I'm a very good listener, and completely nonjudgmental. If you tell me you're a werewolf, I might get kind of grumpy, though, because seriously —"

"I'm not a werewolf, Stiles," she said, laughing. "Really. Everything's fine. For once, nothing awful is happening with my family. Nobody's tried to kill me or my parents or anybody in the neighborhood for, like, weeks. That has to be a record. I have nothing to complain about."

He grinned. "Okay, whatever. I'm not going to be an asshole about it. I'm just saying, it's useless pretending around me. I think I know you too well for that. You might as well give in and just tell me."

Allison went to the hall bathroom to brush her teeth. When she came back out, her face was clean of makeup, she was dressed in a soft jersey top and yoga pants, and she was wearing her glasses. Her hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail.

"It says something about how much I trust you that I don't feel at all self-conscious around you like this," she said.

He nodded thoughtfully. "Does that mean I shouldn't take any pictures and send them to Scott?"

"Don't you dare!" But she didn't look mad about the idea, or even worried.

"I'm just gonna do the bedtime thing myself," he said, finding a clean t-shirt and pajama pants. "You need to get to your car for anything? Because I'm going to lock up."

It felt a little strange to be in the shower, knowing Allison was the only other one in the house, but he couldn't exactly explain why. It was true, he didn't feel self-conscious around her, but in his mind she'd been a kind of extension of Scott ever since they got serious about each other. Even during those times when she and Scott had been broken up and eventually got back together, she'd never felt like a threat.

He knocked softly on the door to the guest room. "I'm turning in."

She opened the door. "Hey," she said, then stopped.

"You got everything you need?"

She nodded. He just waited. Whatever words she had in her head, they weren't coming out.

"You sure? I'm not really tired yet. You want me to stick around for —"

"There is something bothering me," she said. "And it's — it's really embarrassing, and I don't plan on telling anybody. But I thought you should know there  _was_  something, because… because I didn't want you to think I was deliberately hiding something from you."

He grinned. "You kind of are doing that, though."

"No, it's —" She shook her head in annoyance. "It's not about you. I mean, you don't have to worry about it. It's not important. It's just stupid girlfriend stuff."

"Well, tell Lydia, then."

She sighed. "Yeah, I don't think she can exactly help me."

"You're not making much sense. Whatever it is, I seriously don't think it could be worse than  _I scream when somebody's about to die_  or  _I shape-shift when I'm pissed off."_  Stiles gave her a look, and she gave it back to him, and he waited until she sighed again and turned around, waving the air.

"Good night, Stiles."

"Okay, well, I'm just down the hall." He began to back away, raising his voice to be heard through the door. "Thanks for being here to save me from being all alone. You're my hero."

He heard her snort, and he grinned to himself.

He didn't expect to hear from her again until morning, but ten minutes later, she was in his doorway, tapping the same pattern he'd made on her door earlier: two short, one long, two short.

"I don't even know if I  _could_  tell Lydia about this," she said, "because it's so embarrassing to be bad at something in front of her. She's awesome at everything, you know? And she won't exactly accept failure as an outcome. I don't know if she'd tease me mercilessly or tell me how stupid I'm being. The thing is, I know how stupid I'm being, and I still can't help myself."

He propped himself up in bed, watching her curiously. "Everybody's got stuff they're bad at. Lydia too, I bet, somewhere inside."

"Maybe." She sighed. He beckoned her into the room, and she came with obvious reluctance to sit on the edge of his bed.

"You think I'd judge you?"

"No, I think this is too embarrassing to talk about and — and I'm not going to tell you!" Her face was as red as he'd ever seen it.

He leaned forward to place a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Okay, it's fine. I'm not going to be mad if you don't."

"You would tell Scott," she said. "You would tell Scott and I would never be able to show my face around him again, ever."

He drew back in scorn. "I would most certainly  _not._  What do you take me for?"

" _God,"_  she said, putting her hands over her face. "I can't believe I'm even — this is so stupid."

"You look like you need a hug. Do you need a hug? I think we ate all the cookie dough, but I'm pretty sure I have some —"

"Blow jobs," she said. He stopped and watched her warily, wondering if it was meant to be an expletive. She took a deep breath and went on. "I can't… I don't want to give Scott a blow job. I think they're gross and every time I try, I can't do it."

"Okay," said Stiles slowly. "I think that's totally your call? I mean, no means no and… isn't that it?"

"It would be if I didn't want to. I mean, I don't want to, but I  _want_ to want to." She drew her knees up to her chest and rested her chin on them, looking not embarrassed now, but frustrated. "I really don't want to be that girl who thinks body parts are icky. Especially because he's so  _good_  at, well. The other thing, for me."

"Of course." Stiles wondered at what point this was going to seem like too much information about his best friend, but so far it wasn't bothering him, so he figured he might as well try to be helpful. "Well, have you talked to Scott about it?"

She glanced over at him glumly. "Yeah. He's already being super nice about it. I don't think he cares, even. And it's not like he's not…  _clean,_  or anything like that. This is about me, not about him."

He nodded again. "I can see what you mean about talking to Lydia. She'd probably be, like,  _I know some guys you can practice on, and I'll give you tips while you do it."_

Allison shuddered. "There's no way I'd do that on some guy I didn't know."

"It would be weird." He wasn't exactly sure what to say about that. It didn't seem like the best time to admit his own fantasies about giving guys blow jobs, not in the midst of Allison's confession. "Look, Allison, I think you're being way too hard on yourself. There's no pun there, by the way." He waited for her smile before continuing. "I think it's one of those things you want to do, or you don't. And if you don't want to do it, I think you just don't do it."

"I want to be  _good_  at it," she protested. "I don't  _like_  being bad at things. But every time I try, I get… well, performance anxiety."

"I have the feeling Scott will give you eight thousand opportunities to get better at it," he said. That elicited a bigger smile from Allison. "I'm not going to tell you it's not a big deal, because it's clearly bugging you enough that you came in here to tell me about it. Which, seriously? You have bigger balls than I do."

"You're just saying that." Then she hugged him. It wasn't even a little bit weird. "Thank you for being awesome."

Stiles gave himself a mental pat on the back for being a better girlfriend than Lydia. "You are so welcome. Thank you for being here at all. You can come over every Tuesday night, if you want."

It took him a while to get to sleep after she left. He wasn't sure what was bothering him. It certainly wasn't hearing about Allison being bad at blow jobs, or even Scott being really nice about not saying anything about it. He wasn't surprised to hear that was the kind of boyfriend Scott was.

* * *

When Allison woke him up again, it was still dark outside. She was sitting at the bottom of his bed, cross-legged. At first he wasn't sure it wasn't a dream. The clock read  _2:27._

"What is it?" he asked, blinking his eyes. "What's the matter?"

"I have… a proposal," she said, her voice low. "Just listen, okay? And don't say anything."

He almost said  _all right,_  but then he nodded instead. She let out her breath slowly.

"You let me practice. On you." She paused. "The rules are, I would use a condom. You wouldn't come in my mouth. And you could say no any time."

_Practice._  He didn't even get what she was saying until she said the words  _come in my mouth,_  and then he had to sit there and stare at her for a few moments.

"When can I say things?" he asked.

"Now, you can say them now."

"I think I need to think about it before I can give you an answer."

He could see her ponytail bobbing in the near-dark as she nodded quickly. "That's fine. You don't have to give me an answer. Just think about it. You'd be helping me, Stiles." She reached out and touched his knee, just briefly, under the covers. "There's no one else I trust like you."

"Thank you," he said.

When Allison went back to bed, he sat there for a long time, trying to think of all the possible ramifications of saying anything other than  _no._  It was the logical answer, of course, considering who she was and her relationship to his best friend, and Scott's inevitable reaction should he ever hear anything about it.

There was the  _oh my god blow job_  reaction, too. He couldn't deny that was there. But there was also the idea that he could actually help Scott get something pretty nice. It would be… a pleasant surprise, for Scott. Almost a favor. Not one Stiles would ever talk about. That was kind of awesome to contemplate.

He got out of bed and tiptoed down the hall to the guest room, knocking: two short, one long, two short.

"Come in," Allison said right away.

She switched on the little light clipped to the headboard and looked up at him with the strangest mixture of hope and reluctance.

"I think I could do that," he said.

"Really?" She sounded almost awed. "You'd do that for me?"

_No, I'd do it for Scott,_  he thought. He nodded.

"Do you — want to do it right now?"

"Uh…" It was the worst time to feel like laughing. "We could? That's up to you."

"I'm not exactly tired." She reached out a hand to him, and he took it, wondering what he should say. "Let me just… get things ready, then."

He sat there waiting for her on his old guest room mattress, covered in the train-patterned sheets he'd had on his bed when he was a kid, and watched her move around the room, rummaging in her purse. He could feel the warmth of the bed where her body had been, just moments before. He put his hand there, marveling at the intensity of it. Would a warm body in his bed feel that warm?

"Okay," she said. "I'm going to keep the overhead light off, if you don't mind. I'm already feeling kind of…"

"It's fine," he interrupted. "Don't freak out."

She laughed, a little hysterically. "I might. Would you, you know." She gestured at his lower half. "Take off your pajama pants?"

He shimmied out of them, hoping she wouldn't judge him for already being hard, but she didn't seem surprised. She just knelt in front of him on the mattress, staring at his dick like it was an archaic puzzle to be solved.

"I can do this," she whispered, and ripped the condom open.

"It might be kind of… quick," he said, his voice hoarse.

She nodded. "I'll be prepared. If you can warn me, though, I'd appreciate it."

Her fingers were gentle as she rolled the condom on. He breathed slowly and evenly through it, keeping his focus on ordinary things, like the fly buzzing in the corner, or the fold of the curtain over the window, instead of the unreality of the situation.

Then she bent over him, putting her lips over the head. She didn't apply any pressure — there was no suction that he could detect — but the warmth of her breath on his skin, and the more intense heat inside her mouth, made him whimper a little. She backed off immediately, wiping her mouth in disgust.

"Latex," she said, shuddering. "Tastes awful."

He nodded in sympathy, feeling light-headed. "You really don't have to do this."

"No, no," she said immediately, "I want to. And you're being nice enough to let me. I'm going to try again."

He made very sure to stay completely still while Allison made a few determined, awkward bobs over his prone form. Stiles didn't want to make it any more difficult for her than it already was. She made a spluttering noise that sounded more outraged than pleased, and backed off, watching his face anxiously.

"How was that?"

"G-good," he stammered. "I mean — yeah. You can keep trying, if you want. I'm good."

This time she managed to keep him in his mouth for a good ten seconds. He bit his lip, staring desperately up at the ceiling.

"I think if you do that again I'm going to —"

"Okay." Allison backed away immediately, making motions with her hands. "You can — whatever. I mean… do you want me to stay while you do that?"

"I'd really rather you didn't," he said.

"No, of course, no." She stood up, backing away from the bed. "Well… thanks. For the practice. I'll be in the bathroom when you're… yeah." Before he could attempt to put his pajama pants back on, she was gone.

The most awkward thing about the whole encounter happened at that moment, when he had to decide what to think about while jerking off. Everyone and everything that sprang to mind felt like a betrayal. Stiles would have given up on the idea entirely if he hadn't been quite so turned on.

"You're a girlfriendless loser," he told himself afterwards, "but you don't have to be a girlfriendless  _dishonorable_  loser."

While he was making breakfast the next morning, just as he was about to tell Allison they really couldn't ever do that again, she came over and gave him a hug. It was maybe a little more awkward than previous hugs had been, but only momentarily.

"Thank you," she said. "For… that opportunity. I know was a really weird request… I trusted you not to make it even more weird, and it wasn't. And I think I really could get over my hangups, if I worked at it. Just… thank you. You're a really good friend."

"You're welcome," he said. He decided he meant it, even if it wasn't what he'd planned to say. She was his friend, and if he could help her this way — and Scott — she  _was_  welcome.


	2. Chapter 2

"How'd it go last night?" Scott asked them the next day at lunch. Stiles almost very uncoolly dropped his tray on the floor of the cafeteria, but Allison just smiled.

"No bogeymen," she said. "The night was all clear."

Scott smiled back. "Good. Not that Stiles needs a babysitter or anything, but I'm glad you guys weren't sitting around waiting for me."

"Dude, the world does not revolve around Scott McCall," Stiles informed him. "Do you think you could  _get_  any more full of yourself?"

"Yeah, I think we're going to make it a regular thing," said Allison. "Right, Stiles? Tuesday night at the Stilinski house, while your dad is on second shift."

"Right," Stiles said weakly. "Yeah. A regular thing."

That was the last they talked about it until Monday, when Allison called him after school.

"Just tell me," she said. "You've been avoiding me, haven't you?"

"I really haven't," he said.

She sighed. "This is turning into a weird thing, even though I didn't want it to."

"Allison, there's no way this couldn't be a weird thing." He paused. "But I guess it could also be a  _regular_  weird thing."

"It's a thing you're doing because you're my friend," she said. "That not all friends would do, but you are. That's what it is, Stiles, okay? So don't feel weird about it on that account. It's  _practice._  Because I really need it, and when I tried to practice on the real thing, I freaked out. You're  _helping."_

"I know," he groaned. "It just feels a lot like cheating, and I don't just want to justify it for the blow jobs. Because I wouldn't do that to Scott. Or me."

"I know you wouldn't."

* * *

At his house after dinner, Stiles assembled all the makings for cookie dough. Allison provided the muscle, mixing the ingredients in a big bowl with a wooden spoon, while he added them one at a time.

"I'm not saying you shouldn't enjoy it, either," she said. "Seriously. I want to get really, really good at this. You need to tell me how I'm doing."

"Yeah, well, I'm not sure I'm the best one to judge that."

"So? Honestly, how did it compare to other blow jobs you've had before?"

"Allison, that was the  _only_  blow job I've ever had."

She set the bowl down with a thud on the counter, staring at him. "Oh my god. I took your blow job virginity and you didn't even tell me?"

"I didn't want to make a big deal about it. Come on,  _this_  is what you freak out about? Can't we just make cookies?" He dumped in a scoop of the flour-soda-salt mixture. "I did give it some thought. How you could improve."

She brightened. "Oh, yeah?"

"Well, it's a very personal thing, you know? Different for each guy, but… I gotta think there have to be some basics. Have you read, you know, tips?"

"Like, Cosmo's  _Ten Ways to Please Your Man?"_  She made a face. "Really? You think something like that would help?"

"I think it would give you a place to start."

She gave him a sidelong glance. It wasn't flirty, but definitely thoughtful. "Well, why don't you give me your tips, and I'll go looking for more on my own?"

Stiles winced. "I seriously don't know if I can give you blow job  _directions."_

She grabbed his arm. "No, no, this is exactly why I'm doing this with you and not with Scott. Scott doesn't have words for things. You have all  _kinds_ of words." She tilted her head winningly. "Please?"

"Okay, okay!" He watched the nearly-finished cookie dough with regret as she dragged him toward the stairs. "I can't believe you're talking me into this. I can't believe I'm letting you."

Some things were the same. The condom was still latex-flavored (which Stiles had since tasted, himself, because he was too curious not to, and agreed it didn't taste all that pleasant). It was still difficult for Allison to go for more than a few seconds at a time with something the size of Stiles' dick in her mouth. That made him wonder.

"Am I too big?" he asked. "Is that even a possibility?"

She scrutinized his latex-clad erection. "I don't think so?" she said doubtfully. "The shape is different, not the size."

"What do you mean, the  _shape?_ I think I've seen a lot of them, and they're kind of all the same shape."

"That is so not true," Allison said. "The angle, and the width at the base, and the head —"

"How many dicks have  _you_  seen?" he demanded.

"I don't know, a bunch? I've been out with guys before." She sighed, tightening her grip. "Don't get all worried about being inadequate. It's too big to fit in my mouth. That's the truth."

But actually, her second try was a lot better. After his gasped warning and subsequent solo finish, he was even able to regroup enough to come up with specific critiques. He waited until they were fully dressed and back in the kitchen with the cookie dough to introduce them.

"Your teeth," he said. "They're a little too bity. I guess some guys might like that, but I'm apparently a little sensitive about getting chomped down there."

"You think I should put my lips over my teeth or something?" She sounded doubtful. "Okay, got it. Teeth. I'll fix it. Anything else?"

"Well… I know they're called  _blow jobs,_  but there's not really any blowing involved, is there? I think some sucking might feel good."

"Yeah, I don't know if I can do that, but… yes. Thank you. This is very helpful." She took a breath and let it out. "I guess I have some work to do, huh?"

"It's all optional work, seriously. It feels good to me already."

" _Good_  isn't good enough for me," she said loftily, picking up the wooden spoon and brandishing it at him. "I'm going to be  _awesome_  at this."

* * *

"Okay, two things," Allison said, falling into step with Stiles in the hallway. "One, and I don't know why I didn't think of this before, flavored condoms. I got strawberry and mint. Two, apparently I'm supposed to wrap my fingers around your —"

"Allison!" Stiles hissed, putting out a desperate hand. "I — I can't. I can't talk about this at school."

She looked around them. "Nobody's listening, Stiles. If they are, they'll think… I don't even know what they'll think, but it won't be anything close to what we're doing."

"It doesn't matter. Look, this is…" He shuffled her off to the side of the hallway, out of the way of passers-by, and dropped his voice to a whisper. "My brain is having trouble with it. Separating what we're doing from what the rest of my life is like is kind of making me wonder things."

"Like what?" She looked concerned. "Can we talk about this tonight?"

"Yeah." He blew out a breath. "Okay. Thanks."

He was waiting close to the front door when her two-short, one-long, two-short knock came, and opened it, letting the words come out as quickly as they wanted rather than trying to filter them.

"Okay, I'm only considering telling you this because you told me about your really hard embarrassing thing first." He took her hand and led her inside, only letting it go to pace the family room. "And because you seem to be okay about keeping things from Scott."

"I think as long as it's the right things," she said, "it's okay."

"Well, this would be a thing you could not tell him. As in ever." Stiles fixed her with a serious look. "Okay?"

"Okay?"

"Okay." He ran a hand through his hair, trying to remain calm. His Ativan was in his pocket. He wasn't going to throw up. "The thing is… I like guys. And girls. Some of them, not all of them, because that would be kind of crazy."

"Stiles," Allison interrupted. She reached out and took his hand again. "Thank you for telling me, but Scott wouldn't care about that at all."

"Well, he might not, if… if it wasn't about him." He watched her eyes flicker across the room and back to him as she got it. He looked away. "Yeah. That's something I never planned to talk about with anybody. Only it's — it's coming up." He could hear that hysterical tone in his own laugh. "Because of what we're doing."

"I don't understand. Stiles, can we sit down?"

Stiles let her lead him to the couch and put her arm around him, waiting quietly while he got himself together.

"I don't think I realized I was doing it for this reason, when you first came to me," he said. "I just knew it was kind of — well, I wasn't sure why I was. I just knew that there was something else going on." He kept the breathing happening, out, then in, and over again. "And eventually I realized I figured… this was as close as I could ever get to — giving Scott something like this. Myself."

"Oh, Stiles." Her other arm came up around him. He let her hug him like that, feeling wretched.

"Because, you know," he went on, "the better you got at it, the better I knew it was for him. And then I kind of, well, started thinking about that. When I… after you left."

She laughed quietly. "Stiles, I think you get to think about anything you want when you do that."

"Yeah?" He sat back, looking at her hopefully. "You don't think I'm awful for taking advantage of the situation?"

"Absolutely not," she said, her voice firm. "Virtual Scott is better than no Scott. You definitely can imagine him getting off to me giving him blow jobs. Or you giving him them, for that matter."

He gave her a tentative smile. "Well, good, because I've definitely been thinking about that."

"About giving him blow jobs?" He nodded, and she tossed her head. She took both his hands and smiled at him. "Well, maybe you won't ever get to give him a real one, but I think our task has become a mutual one."

"You and me, getting Scott off, together?"

She laughed, a big laugh, and he had to laugh, too, at the craziness of it. Then he hugged her again, holding her as tight as he could, knowing she could take it. It felt so, so good.

"You're amazing," he said. "Seriously. I'm so lucky. I never thought I would be able to tell  _anybody_ that, and… you just made it completely okay."

"I'm so glad you feel that way," she murmured. He felt her lips brush his cheek.

* * *

For a while, it became a singular focus. Allison would come in the door on Tuesday evening, set her bags down, and tell him the thing she was going to work on: deep-throating, or tongue technique, or whatever, and he would say  _okay,_  and they would go to the guest room and spread out on the bed and work on that. Sometimes Stiles would disappear into his bedroom for a little while first, because the idea of Allison doing  _whatever_  to Scott would be way too hot to contemplate. Once he'd established a little distance from the idea, it was usually easier to let Allison practice on him without him going off like a rocket.

But then she started getting good at what she did. Really, really good. It was almost surreal about how good she got — so good that Stiles had to jerk off at least once and sometimes twice on Tuesday afternoon to guarantee a successful practice session. Most of that was just that her technique had improved immeasurably, but at least a little bit of it was due to creative application of said techniques.

"There was this one thing I read about," she said one day, looking up at him from between his legs, "about the frenulum, but… I can't really tell details through the condom. Would you mind if I didn't use one this time? I'm clean, I swear, I can show you my test."

"Allison, no, it's fine." He touched her hair gently. "It's cool. You can do whatever you want."

"Whatever I want? Really?"

He wasn't sure how he felt about that wicked gleam in her eye. "Within reason," he amended. "As long as it feels good."

"Well, in that case… there's something else I want to try. Can you tell me if this doesn't feel good?"

She moved lower, doing that licking-his-balls thing she'd totally perfected. He adjusted the towel beneath them, already slick with spit, and shifted forward, giving her better access. Then her tongue moved lower still, and he paused, uncertain about what to say.

"Uh… that's really — oh my god."

She didn't come up for a few awesome moments, and when she did, he was breathing hard. She looked triumphant. "Was that a good  _oh my god?_ "

"That was an  _oh my god,_  Allison, are you fucking kidding me, you just put your tongue in my  _ass."_

"Well, I heard it felt good," she said, sounding a little defensive. "Did it?"

He collapsed back on the bed. "What, do you want me to do it to you so you can find out?"

"Maybe?" she giggled. "I'd say that was a win, then."

"Yeah, I'd say." He eyed her in amazement. "What happened to being grossed out by — any of this?"

"Come on." She waved her hand. "You know I passed that point a long time ago. This is all fun now. I read some glowing reviews of the tongue thing. Or fingers, for that matter. Can I try fingers?"

"If you…" He swallowed, then nodded emphatically. "Yes. I want you to try fingers.  _One_  finger."

She employed the condom for that, wrapping it around her pinky finger, and carefully slid it inside him. He discovered pretty quickly that he liked it better when she was also blowing him, and the  _oh my god_  did indeed extend to the finger as well as the tongue.

Even more significant, however, was the difference without the condom. It wasn't just the sensitivity factor. It was the way the skin of her lips felt against the skin of his dick. All too quickly, he had to put a hand on her shoulder, which had come to signal  _better stop now_.

She let him slide from her mouth, but she didn't back away, placing soft kisses all the way from his stomach to the inside of his thigh. He lay there, tense and shaking a little.

"Allison," he said. "I kind of have to…"

"Yeah, I know." She ran her hand along his leg, making the hair stand up. "Would it be okay if I just… stayed where I am?" To emphasize her point, she gave her finger inside him a little wiggle.

He flexed his hand, resting it on his thigh, right where she'd just kissed him. "You want me to…?"

She sounded subdued. "Yeah."

"Hey. That's okay. You okay? I'm okay. You don't have to go anywhere. Let me just…" He took a deep breath and took his dick in his hand. He tried to feel ordinary about what he was doing, but it was impossible when there was nothing ordinary about having Allison there, touching him.  _Inside_  him.

"Oh my god," she whispered. She gave the finger inside him another wiggle, and when he sped up his strokes, she said, urgently, "Stiles, I can  _feel —"_

It could have been a distraction, the way she was talking and moving and making him aware of all the things he was doing, but it wasn't. He reached down and grabbed her free hand with his, and she held it tightly.

"Can you — a little harder?" he asked. "Like, push — a little more, harder —" He let out a gasp. "God, yes,  _that,_  do that, please, do that."

"Stiles," she said again.

Hearing her say his name was doing crazy things to his equilibrium. He took another deep breath and ground down against her hand, then snapped his hips back up as he came hard enough to splatter his own collarbone.

She let him crush her free hand until the aftershocks subsided, but it took a while, especially because every movement of her finger inspired new sensations. Eventually he nudged her, and she carefully withdrew.

"Did that hurt?" she asked. "Are you okay?"

"Only a little."

"You're only a little okay, or it only hurt a little?"

"The second. The second one." He struggled to his elbows, looking at her bewildered face. "That felt incredible. You totally didn't do anything bad."

"I think I might have," she said, sounding scared. "Stiles, I think — I think I'm cheating on Scott."

The beautiful feeling in his stomach turned sour, and he felt his smile drop away. "It's practice, for Scott. You said."

"That wasn't for Scott.  _That_  wasn't." She shook her head as she stripped the condom off her finger, inside-out, and dropped it on the floor. "Even if it didn't mean anything, I think what I just did would still have been cheating."

"Are you —" The question stuck in his throat. He had to push it out. "Are you telling me it does mean something?"

"Of course it means something," she snapped. "I don't sleep around."

"I thought you said —"

"I know what I said."

He could see her getting ready to move off the bed, to let his hand go, and he absolutely wasn't ready for her to do that, so he gave her hand a little tug instead. She moved in toward him, a little bit at a time, until he gave her a bigger tug. That seemed to be enough. She climbed up to lie beside him, and he put his arms around her.

"Allison," he said. She nodded, closing her eyes.

He kissed her, and she kissed him back. He listening to the noises she was making and wondering if he was going to get hard again after all.

When they paused and looked at one another again, it was obvious they both were aware of what they were doing. Stiles put a hand on Allison's chest, feeling her heart beating rapidly.

"Now I feel even more guilty," she said.

He let his head fall forward onto her shoulder, nodding against her neck. "You want me to go?"

"No. Don't go." She held onto him, and he nodded again, wondering if he should feel that relieved. "I'll… deal with the fallout after this."

"After this." He heard the weight of the words in her voice. "You're going to talk to Scott?"

"Yeah, I will." She brushed his hair behind his ear, looking into his face. Her eyes were clear. "I have some ideas about how that might not be the end of the world, even if you think it will be."

"I really don't get how it  _couldn't_  be," he admitted. "Not if this is… what I think it is."

She put a hand behind his head, pulling him close enough to kiss him again, but holding him there, hovering over his face with her lips.

"What do you think it is?" she asked in a whisper.

She sighed when he kissed her neck, reveling in the sensation of Allison tipping her head back and giving in to him — to  _him._  He buried his face in her skin and breathed her in. On the exhale, he said what he felt.

"I love you."

"Yeah," she said. She didn't sound sad, or at least not too sad, or even surprised. "I love you too, Stiles."

He wrapped her up in both arms and squashed her as tightly as he'd grasped her hand. "Wow. Yeah. That's what I thought it was, except… I didn't expect you to say it."

"I tend to say words," she said. "Like you do."

She kissed him again, carefully, then more emphatically, until he began to loosen up and kiss her back. He didn't have a ton of recent experience kissing, although overall it had been the only thing he'd  _had_  experience with before Allison. Now he mostly had experience trying not to come from really enthusiastic blow jobs.

"Allison," he said. "It might be kind of pointless for me to say this, since we already kind of did stuff, but… maybe we shouldn't do any  _more_  stuff until you talk to Scott? Or I talk to Scott. Until he gets talked to. Now that we know this is… not practice."

"Yeah, yeah, okay, you're right." She let go of him, putting a little space between them. "I'm a little too turned on to think clearly."

It was hitting him suddenly, all the possible consequences of this situation that he hadn't wanted to think about since Allison had made her 2 AM proposition, weeks ago, but those words made him pause and give her a goofy smile. "That turned you on? I turned you on?"

She laughed, shaking her head. "Stiles, seriously, you're really cute, but what we just did… yes. That turned me on."

"Is it okay if I feel a little smug about that? I mean, on top of scared shitless of losing both my best friends and never getting to do this again with you? Either of you." He took a deep breath. "Holy shit, this sucks."

He grabbed for her again, and when she kissed him this time, he didn't attempt to push her away. Not if this was  _the only time._

"This was all me, Stiles," she said, clutching his face. "I'm going to make sure Scott knows that. Everything we did, it was my choice. Okay?"

"Yeah, I'm kind of saving guilt for tomorrow," he said. He couldn't even apologizing for crying all over her while he was kissing her. "Right now I'm already missing you."

That made her cry too. Stiles comforted her as best as he could, even though it was obviously pointless.

"Do you want me to, you know, put on some pants?" he asked. "So I'm not distracting you with my glorious nakedness."

Allison shook her head, sniffling through a laugh. "I'd rather take mine off."

He let out a shaky sigh. "Yeah, that would be… a really bad idea. Whatever intentions we had, things would happen. More things."

"I know." She made a resolute nod. "I think I should go home."

That felt like an even worse idea, but he nodded. "Yeah. You think… maybe I should talk to Scott before you do?"

"No, Stiles, I've got this. You don't know all the information. And I'm not going to say anything more right now." She looked into his eyes, in that intense way people always did in the movies, and Stiles got the experience of having his breath taken away. "Okay?"

"I don't understand," he said, although what he really wanted to say was  _oh my god, you're so beautiful._

"Remember how you told me things? Things you said I wasn't allowed to tell anybody, ever? He's told me things like that, too. I'm the one who has to decide what to do about all of it."

He thought about that. "Well, whatever you decide you have to tell him, it's fine. I trust you."

Her eyebrows went up. "Yeah?"

"If we're telling you all our secrets, isn't it pretty obvious that we both trust you with them?"

"Yeah, but how trustworthy am I, really? I'm the one who cheated on him. With you."

He shook his head. "You didn't  _mean_  to."

"Stiles, what does that even mean? Of course I meant to. I have to take responsibility for what I did." She stood up, picking up the condom and the wrapper as she went. "I'm going to go. I'll call you later."

"Allison," Stiles said. He knew he sounded panicked, and he didn't care. She stopped in the door and looked back at him. Her glasses were a little bit crooked. "This… this happened, right? Whatever happens tomorrow, we really… you said those things, and I said them, and…" He sighed. "Never mind. I don't know what I'm asking."

"Are you asking me who I'm going to pick?"

He stared at her. "I would never ask you that."

"No." She shook her head. "I didn't think you ever would. Just hang in there, okay? I'm not making this up, Stiles. You know I don't mess around." She smiled, and her eyes were so sad. "I think you're amazing."

Stiles sat on the bed in the guest room until he heard the door open and close downstairs. Then he stood up, picking up his pajama pants, and gingerly walked to the bathroom. He sat on the toilet and had the weirdest poop of his life.

He managed to turn on the shower and step under the spray before the tears began.


	3. Chapter 3

Stiles went to bed early and slept fitfully. He woke up several times in the middle of the night to check his phone, but there was nothing from either Scott or Allison. He figured that might be a good thing, but he wasn't going to make any assumptions.

He was muddled enough by the third time he woke up that he didn't question the doorbell in the middle of the night. He just stumbled downstairs to the front door and paused there, looking out the window to the empty porch.

"Allison?" he called. There was no answer. He turned on the porch light and looked again, but the porch was empty. He checked his phone again. It was seven after three.

Stiles sent a reluctant text to Allison, asking  _Did you just ring my doorbell?_  But he wasn't surprised when she didn't reply. Of course she was asleep. She would have called first. He turned off the light and went back to bed.

He stayed in bed when the doorbell rang again. Allison still hadn't replied to his text. He wondered if he should call her.

If it had been any other day — any other day at all — he would have called Scott. It didn't matter that it was the middle of the night. Scott had always been willing to be woken up when Stiles was freaking out, no matter what the reason. But that was before Stiles had betrayed him in the worst possible way. Even if Scott didn't know about it yet, Stiles didn't think he could legitimately ask him for help.  _Sorry to bother you, man, and I know I'm in love with your girlfriend and we've been kind of fucking around for weeks, but would you mind coming over anyway to figure out why my doorbell keeps ringing?_  No. He closed his eyes tight and drew his blanket up around his shoulders.

The doorbell rang again.

"Fuck," he moaned. He considered calling his dad at the police station, but decided he wasn't quite to that point yet. He could man up and figure this out.

Stiles got out of bed and put on his robe over his pajamas. It wasn't like that would be any protection, but it made him feel a little normal, at least. He went down the hall to his dad's room and looked at the gun safe for a few minutes before deciding against it. Instead, he went downstairs and got his lacrosse stick from the front closet.

The doorbell rang again as he approached the front hall. He stopped and turned off the light before opening the door, so he could see what was on the front porch more easily. What  _wasn't_  on the front porch, really, because there was nothing there.

"Whoever you are," Stiles shouted, holding the lacrosse stick high, "you can show yourself, or get the hell off my porch."

It did freak Stiles out a little for the wind to blow at just that moment, but not enough to make him drop his defensive weapon. He took one step out of the house onto the porch and took a careful look in all directions, both wondering what the hell he was doing and chastising himself for being so scared.

The voice didn't startle him so much as it pissed him off.  _You're going to have to invite me in._

"The fuck I will," said Stiles. He looked around again at the empty yard. "I know better than that."

_Oh, I don't require an invitation. It's just polite._

"So it's polite to ring somebody's doorbell at three in the morning?"

 _I do apologize for the timing._  The voice sounded penitent.  _I didn't realize it was night here._

He lowered the stick slowly. "That doesn't exactly inspire trust. Neither does talking to nothing."

_If you need something tangible, I can provide that._

There was a throat-clearing noise behind Stiles. He spun around to find a petite girl in a sweater dress with cropped red hair, grinning at him — from inside his house. She was wearing elbow-length blue-and-black striped gloves. He looked out the door again. It was still quiet outside.

"No, really, it's just me," she said, bouncing on her toes. She gave a little apologetic wave.

Stiles tossed the lacrosse stick in the corner, glaring at her. "What the hell is going on?"

"Calm down, Stiles. I should have known you would freak out. You never could deal with having things taken away from you. Starting with your mother."

"What do you know about my mother?" But obviously that was a stupid question. Whoever —  _whatever_  this thing was, it knew his name, where he lived, and what had happened to him years ago.

"Look," she said, pulling off her gloves, one finger at a time, "it's up to you how this gets handled. If you want me to go, I'll go right now, no questions. But I know what happened tonight, that sucked. I just want you to know, it doesn't have to end that way."

" _What_  doesn't have to end that way?" Stiles said. He wondered at what point he was going to tell her to leave, because he was obviously not going to invite her in. The wind stirred again, and he shivered. Even in his bathrobe, it was chilly outside. "How do you know about what happened with Allison?"

"Yes. You and Allison." Her face was solemn, even earnest. "Whoever told you you don't deserve to be happy, Stiles, they were wrong. You deserve that as much as anybody. Maybe more, considering what the world has already taken away from you."

He frowned at her. "I know that. I know I deserve to be happy. Whoever said I didn't believe that?"

"Nobody. I just think it would be easy to come to expect that what you have, what you've always had, is all you're ever going to get. Playing second fiddle to — well, I won't say someone more important, but it might seem that way. You're not a sidekick."

"I know," he said again, feeling aggravated. "I'm just me, and Scott's just Scott."

"He's your best friend. Of course you want him to be happy. Which isn't to say he doesn't want that for you, too. I'm sure he does. But… Stiles." She tilted her head, making a little  _tut-tut_  noise. "You can't just think about Scott. He has so many good things already. This is about you, and what you deserve."

"I can't do that. It's not that simple." He moved to the door. Why was it standing open? "Can we go sit down? It's three in the freaking morning."

"Of course, of course, I'm sorry." She nodded, waiting as he turned off the hall light and led her into the kitchen. "I'll go whenever you're ready for me to leave."

"I just think you don't understand how it is for me and Scott," said Stiles. "He's my best friend. That's more than just a title. It means something to me."

The girl nodded enthusiastically. "I think it's noble of you, to always be there for him. He hasn't always had it so easy. And now that he  _does…"_  She trailed off, shrugging.

"What?" Stiles said uneasily.

"Oh, well… I wonder if he even thinks about that anymore. How hard it used to be for him when he was human. How it still is for you, sometimes."

"Sometimes." He sat at the table, and the red-headed girl pulled a chair out to sit across from him. He wondered if she wanted him to offer her something to drink, but she seemed okay. He'd wait. "You think he doesn't remember? He's always been so nice."

"Well, he can afford to be, can't he?" She laughed, like it was obvious. "He's not going to make a big deal about this, but… the thing is, Stiles, he doesn't understand what a big deal  _Allison_  is for you."

He swallowed hard on the tightness in his throat. "I can't… I wouldn't take her away from him. I wouldn't take him away from her."

"You wouldn't, but he would?" She raised an eyebrow, waiting.

"They're together," he said doggedly. "I don't get to question that. I don't  _want_  to."

"You don't want to, or you don't think it would be fair? Stiles, shouldn't  _she_  get a chance to choose who she wants?" Her voice got soft, and she reached across the table for his hand. He gave it without thinking. "Don't you think you deserve to  _win_ for a change?"

The more he tried to answer that, the more impossible it seemed. He shook his head helplessly. "Maybe? But I wasn't first. I didn't get there first. They're already together."

She smiled. "It doesn't have to be that way."

"What do you mean it doesn't —"

"Stiles, time isn't like that. It's not a first-that-then-this. It's an everything-at-once. That's why I'm here in the middle of the night. Everything is happening, this big cloud of now." Her fingers flitted randomly above her head. "It's just up to you to decide what you want. I'm here to help you grab it."

"You are?"

"That's what I do. Reality, it's all perception. You know what I want?" She reached into the space above her head. When she opened her hand, there was an apricot in it. It was ripe and moist and looked perfect.

"Whoa." Stiles raised an eyebrow. "Good trick."

"No trick, Stiles. Just tell me what you want, and I can help you manifest it."

He nodded slowly. "What's the catch?"

"There's no catch. You just take it." She leaned forward, still smiling. "Why don't you try saying what you want?"

"You mean like an apricot?"

She laughed. It was a nice sound. "If you like. But I don't think you're interested in fruit. You have other things you want."

"You mean… people." He couldn't quite bring himself to say a name.

"I wouldn't be here if you didn't already know what you wanted."

"I just have to say what I want and — and I get to have it?" He shook his head. "No. The world doesn't work like that."

"Stiles, that's what I'm saying. You think that's true because you've become accustomed to settling for less than your share. You don't have to do that anymore. You have just as much right to be happy as he does."

"What if I want to be happy with him?" The words just slipped out. He closed his mouth, but the girl nodded eagerly, her eyes gleaming.

"Then you can have that. If that's what you want."

"But what happens to Allison?"

"Ah. This is the best part. Are you ready?" She waved her hand again. The apricot was gone. "Allison won't ever miss him. She won't even have known him. It can be you and Scott — just the way it always was."

He licked his lips. "And what about Allison? What if I want her?"

"Works the same way. It'll be just as though it was always that way. Even you won't miss Scott."

Stiles shook his head, leaning back in his chair. "There's no way I wouldn't miss him."

"Not if you never knew him. Reality is what you make it, right?" She nodded. "So… what's it going to be? Do you already know? Or do you need time to think about it?"

He felt a little dazed by the possibilities. "Can I sleep on it?"

She shook her head regretfully. "I could let you take a nap, wake you up in an hour or so, but I'm afraid I have other stops to make tonight. Do you want me to leave you alone to think?"

"No, no… I think I might be ready." He gave her a cautious smile, and she brightened, smiling back.

"Okay!" she said, nodding. "That's great. I knew you could do this."

There was a noise. It wasn't loud, but the rhythm was familiar. He tapped it on the table.

"Stiles," she said encouragingly. She reached across the table again, this time with both hands. He took them. The rhythm sounded again: two short, one long, two short. He looked toward the door.

"Is somebody trying to get in?"

"It's three o'clock in the morning, remember?" she said. "I seriously doubt it."

"Just give me a second —" He tried to stand, but she gripped his hands.

"Stay here, okay? Focus on what we're doing. This is what you want."

When he listened, he couldn't hear anything else. It was just the tapping sound.

"I know who that is," he said. "That's Allison."

"But Allison is with Scott," she said. She shook her head. "She went home, to him." Her gaze sharpened. "And unless you make this choice, she's never going to be with you again."

It was a horrible idea. He'd resigned himself to that already, before he even said goodbye to her, hadn't he? But Allison had said… what had she said? He looked past the girl's shoulder at the hallway, from which the persistent tapping was coming.

"She said I should hang in there," he said. He felt a jolt in his heart. "She said — she said I was amazing."

"And you are, Stiles," said the girl. She clutched his hands tightly. "You deserve to have her."

"But so does he," he said. "I can't make that decision for her. I'm hanging in there." He raised his voice, loud enough for her to hear him from the front hall. "I'm hanging in there, Allison."

"She can't hear you." The girl's smile looked different now. Stiles focused on her face, which suddenly seemed white where it had been simply pale before. Her mouth was red, a jagged gash of lipstick. He drew away, but she held him fast.

 _That's not lipstick_ , he thought.

It was her teeth that didn't fit, he realized, as his heart made a sick, erratic thud. They were too long. They were sharp, and fitted together like scissors, and — god, they had to be at least three inches long. He stared at those impossible teeth in her mouth.

"What the fuck are you?" he whispered.

"You did such a nice job of following my directions from the beginning, Stiles," she said. The blood on her lips spattered the table as she spoke. "You opened the door, and told me all the names. You brought me into your home. You offered me your wrists. I wasn't lying. You can have everything you want. I'm just here to take what you've offered in return."

"I haven't offered you anything!" He couldn't seem to make his voice rise above that whisper now. His hands felt heavy, like he'd been holding them up too long. When he looked down, he was only mildly distressed to see that he was bleeding from his wrists, that it was slowly seeping out of him and onto the table. Her smile was far more ghastly than his own blood.

"Every virgin says that. But you want to give it up, don't you? I don't need to take more than you have to give, and then you can dispose of your virginity and be happy with Allison. Or Scott, I don't think it matters. It's your choice."

"I don't want to choose," he said. "I want… I want to hang in there."

She looked as sympathetic as a creature could with a mouth full of razors. "Yes, well, I'm afraid that humans don't tolerate this amount of blood loss very well. You won't  _hang in there_  much longer. It's time to make your choice before it's too late."

The loud crashing noise in the hallway didn't interrupt his lassitude, but the girl seemed disturbed. Her fingers dug more deeply into his wrists.

"Stiles?"

It was Allison's voice. She was there in the front hall. Stiles could see her terrified face. He wanted to say,  _here, I'm fine,_ but he couldn't make any more words come out of his mouth.

"You're out of time," said the girl.

It wasn't a girl anymore, not by any stretch of the imagination. Stiles could see they weren't fingers, either. They were more like tentacles. Whatever they were, they were connected to his wrists and were pumping his blood out of him as fast as he could manufacture it.

And then there was a great wrenching, along with a familiar roar, and Scott's furious wolf face was where the girl-creature had been. Stiles' table was in pieces on the floor, and the creature was — well, it seemed to be in pieces, too. He slithered to the floor to land beside it, his face positioned close to a severed tentacle, but Stiles couldn't focus well enough to see details.

"I can't get them out of him," Allison said, sounding anguished. "His arms, those — _things."_

 _It's too late,_  said the voice he remembered from the beginning.  _I'm taking what the virgin has freely given._

"Stiles, a virgin?" Scott paused. Then he stood back, shaking his head. "You're using some weird-ass definition of  _virgin_  if you think he qualifies anymore."

 _He has not penetrated another's flesh,_  said the voice.

"How about the other way around?" Even in wolf-guise, he could tell Scott was grinning at him. "Way to  _be penetrated,_  Stiles."

Stiles felt like he should object, somehow, because first of all, how did Scott know what he'd been doing, and second — actually, that was really enough, wasn't it? He made a feeble croak, but it was eclipsed by the furious hiss of the creature.

 _A technicality,_  it said.  _It will not stand._

Scott bent down and effortlessly gathered him up into his arms, coating them both with the slippery blood that was still pumping sluggishly into the tentacular tubes in his wrists. Scott gave them a yank, and they slithered to the ground. Allison made a sound of disgust.

"Yeah, well, how about you get back to us about that when the demon courts rule on the current definition of a virgin? I'm taking Stiles. Now."

 _You can't!_  The voice was outraged, but it seemed to be powerless to prevent Scott from walking out the front door.

Allison ran ahead, holding the keys to her car, and opened the back door before jumping into the front seat and starting the engine.

"We're going to the hospital, Stiles," said Scott. "Stay with me, okay? You're gonna be all right. Just —"

"Hang in there," Stiles whispered.

He saw Scott's human mouth, no longer wolf — and decidedly absent of three-inch razor teeth — split in a relieved smile.

"Yeah," he said. "Do that. Just a little bit longer."

Stiles had all kinds of questions, but none of them would surface long enough for him to speak them. He just rested his head on Scott's chest, listening to his steady heartbeat, and closed his eyes.


	4. Chapter 4

He woke, not in the hospital as he'd expected, but back in his own bedroom. The light through his window was faint, and the clock read  _6:06_. His wrists were bandaged and throbbed with pain, but he seemed to be in one piece.

When he tried to sit up, Allison put a hand on one shoulder. That was more than enough force to keep him down.

"I got your text," she said. "But there was something around the house. We woke up Dr. Deaton, and he helped us figure out what happened. After the she cleared you, Scott's mom said we could bring you back here. Too many impossible questions from the nurses to keep you in the ER, I think. You lost blood, but it wasn't enough to be really dangerous."

"Yeah," said Stiles. Even without a full night's sleep, he already felt stronger. "Apparently my blood didn't qualify for whatever that thing needed it for. I lost my virgin status?"

She actually looked embarrassed. "I — I didn't actually  _mean_  to make that happen, but… yeah, I guess you did?"

"Oh, seriously, you did me a favor," he assured her. "I always knew I wanted to get rid of that thing. But how did Scott know?"

"Yeah, that…" Allison watched his face carefully. "You're not too tired to talk about it now?"

"I'm actually more interested in the state of my kitchen. Did Scott really break our table?"

"We fixed the table — kind of — and cleaned up the blood. I think it'll be okay for when your dad comes home." Stiles could see the exhaustion on her face. "We have to go to school in about an hour. We'll both be back to check on you later. We didn't tell your dad about anything, but Scott's mom says we have to tell him  _something_ , or she's going to talk to him herself."

"Yeah, I think he's probably going to have questions about the puncture wounds on my wrists. I'll think of something to tell him." He let his head rest back on his pillow and looked at her. " _Now_  can you tell me what happened with Scott?"

"I really think it would be better to wait until you've had time to —"

"Hey." Scott was in the doorway. Allison stopped talking, but Scott didn't take his eyes off Stiles. He looked so relieved. "You're awake. You look okay."

"Yeah." Stiles held up his hands. "Look at me, not dead again. Guess I got lucky."

"I feel…" Scott shook his head. "God, Stiles, so bad for not being there."

"Hey, if anyone should feel guilty, it's me," said Allison, "considering I was the one supposed to be keeping him safe."

Stiles put up a hand. "Look, no. Nobody needs to feel bad for anything. I'm the one who opened the door and let that thing inside."

"Dr. Deaton says it was a  _dearg-du_ ," said Allison. "We know how to defeat it, though. He was able to locate its grave. If we cover it with stones, it won't have any more control over the living."

Stiles nodded, feeling relieved. "So why'd it come after me? I just happened to be the most accessible virgin?"

"No," said Scott quietly. "It was working against us, on behalf of the Darach. To cause a rift between the three of us."

"The three of us?" Stiles echoed. "For what?"

"Because we're strongest together. All of us." Scott sat down at the foot of the bed. Tentatively, he put a hand on Stiles' ankle. Even through the blanket, Stiles felt the heat of his hand. "Dr. Deaton told me how the  _dearg-du_ works. Undermining the group's integrity, he said. Destroying trust in a relationship."

Stiles had to look away. "Yeah, well," he said, feeling his voice catch. "I think I did that pretty well all by myself."

"It wasn't like that," said Allison, but Scott shook his head. Stiles could feel his eyes on him.

"Hey. I get that you were scared to tell me how you felt. I didn't exactly give you much of a reason to trust me with that."

"I really didn't know I felt that way about her until last night," Stiles said.

"No, I mean… the way you feel about me."

"Oh." He cleared his throat, his skin burning. He had no idea what to say. There was no way he could deny it. "Yeah, well. I guess you know everything, huh?"

Scott gave Allison an apologetic glance. "Allison told me. Please don't be mad at her for that. She said she didn't want to break your trust, but she had to tell  _one_  of us what was really going on, or things were never going to change."

Stiles sighed. "And she told you what we did, too? Me and her?"

"She told me why. I don't need details. Stiles…" Scott squeezed his ankle. "Stiles, would you just look at me? I'm not mad."

"Yeah, see, I don't get that at all," Stiles said, staring at the bed. "You've always been stupid jealous about Allison."

"Not when it's you," he said. His tender tone of voice made Stiles look, despite himself. Scott was blushing, but he was smiling, too.

"Jesus." Stiles exhaled, staring at him. His own smile emerged, unbidden. "What the fuck?"

"I'm sorry," Allison interrupted, climbing onto the bed to sit next to him and wrapping her arms around him, "I'm totally hijacking your moment, but Stiles, you're way too far away, and I'm kind of freaking out about last night, and…"

"Yeah, that's — okay. That's okay." He gave Scott a startled confirmation glance that it  _was_  okay, but Scott was already climbing over to sit on the other side of him. While Scott didn't exactly throw his arms around him, he did lean against the two of them and let out a long sigh. Stiles relaxed into Allison's soft warmth.

Allison, the unflappable stalwart hero, was shaking. "It was awful to see you on the floor of your kitchen with that  _thing_ attached to you _…_ "

Stiles knew his own arms were probably poor comfort, but he held her tightly anyway until the shaking stopped. It didn't take too long.

"You're not going to get rid of me that easily," said Stiles.

"You bet your ass I'm not." She kissed him firmly, then again, guiding his jaw to face her. He tensed, feeling Scott beside him.

"Allison…"

"It's all right," said Scott. He put a hand on Stiles' back. "Really. This is cool. Better than that."

Stiles wasn't sure what to do with that statement, until Allison shifted her lips to Stiles' ear, and said, "You've been giving him blow jobs through me for two months, right?"

Before Stiles could react, Scott let out a groan. It didn't sound at all unhappy.

"Oh my god." Stiles kissed her, feeling dizzy. Not dizzy;  _drunk._  He was drunk on the sound Scott had made, and the silkiness of Allison's shoulder under his fingers. "This is… unbelievable."

"Let him watch," she said. "He wants to."

Stiles wasn't certain where he found the courage to reach around and run his hand over Scott's bare arm. He was absolutely sure he'd never touched Scott like that, not even in daredevil moments of play-flirting — and Scott had never reacted that way to his touch, his breathing shaky and uneven.

"Just watch?" asked Stiles softly.

"Uh…" Scott chuckled. He reached over and rested his arm on Stiles' thigh, just momentarily. "You were, you know, in the hospital an hour ago? Maybe one step at a time. Plus, we have to go to school."

"Tease," Allison said. She leaned in closer against Stiles, letting him feel her breast brush against his ribs as she kissed him. He whimpered. "Don't even think about unlocking the door, okay? Sleep. Stay in bed."

"Yeah, I'll stay in bed." He looked up at Allison as she stood, smiling down at him, then over at Scott, still resting against him. He took a deep breath and twisted around to hug him. "Thanks for saving my ass, again."

"You've saved mine a million times," said Scott.

"So…" He sat back a little, gauging Scott's expression, but mostly still hearing that groan in his memory, and hoping it meant what he thought it meant. "We're strongest together, huh?"

"Yeah." Scott nodded. "We are."

"And… you want that?"

Scott must have heard something in Stiles' voice, because his expression softened, and he looked up at Allison. She reached over and took Scott's hand.

"Yeah," Scott said again. "Not just for the sake of being strong, but… because I think it would be good."

"And that's my cue," she said. "Okay if I leave you guys alone for a minute?"

He blinked. "Wait… what?"

"I'm gonna make some coffee."

She took Scott's hand and passed it over to Stiles, so he was left cupping it against his chest. They both stared at it while Stiles' heart beat a wild tattoo. Scott didn't look any more steady than he felt, but Allison was already out in the hallway; he couldn't exactly call her back in.

"Is this still okay?" Stiles asked.

"What do you mean?"

"I wasn't sure. Maybe you think it's the kind of thing that's only okay around Allison. Not quite no homo, but… just homo enough, without being too much?"

Scott winced, although he didn't pull away. "Nice. Is that really how you think I am?"

"Well, I think I always thought that was how you  _were._  Not judging you, just… maybe a little disappointed that you didn't want this more."

"Who says I didn't? I did. But… you were my best friend. Are. Are my best friend." Scott very deliberately flattened his hand and placed it in the center of Stiles' chest. "Gambling that, for something uncertain, that was way too big a risk."

"So what's different now?"

He gestured at the door, looking embarrassed. "All this… what you did with Allison. Plus, she told me she loved you."

That definitely made Stiles' heart do another little flip, but he tried to stay focused. "What does  _that_  have to do with  _this?"_

"I think nothing, except… except you were doing all of that for me. All of that time spent with Allison… she told me how it was." Scott squirmed. "I mean, is that true?"

Stiles felt as uncomfortable as Scott looked, but he figured Scott deserved a real answer. "I don't think I knew it was, exactly, when we started. But I swear, it wasn't to cheat on you. I wanted to help. Because it was such a hard thing for her to even talk about, and she really wanted to… to make it good."

"Yeah," said Scott. His voice was coarse. "You wanted it to be good for me."

Stiles let out an embarrassing involuntary noise, a little  _uh,_  and Scott's eyes closed, just for a moment.

"That… is so hot," Stiles whispered. "Holy shit, I can't even tell you how hot that is."

"What is?" Scott asked. His eyes opened, so close to Stiles' own. "Wanting that?"

"Well, yeah, but… just you, getting turned on."

"Does that turn  _you_  on?"

"Yeah," Stiles said. He lost his words as Scott tipped his hip toward Stiles, pressing the length of himself against Stiles' thigh. Very carefully, Scott rubbed on him, once, twice.

"I really want to turn you on," Scott whispered back. Then he ducked his head, squeezing his eyes shut. "I can't believe I just said that."

"Hey, no," Stiles protested. His thigh was tingling all over where Scott had rubbed against it. "Scott. You always turn me on. Well, maybe not when you're all wolfly. But all the rest of the time. You're, like, this big sexy puppy, and I just want to roll around with you and—" He gulped. "Yeah. Well, you know what I want to do."

"Everything Allison's been doing?"

"Pretty much. Except she's actually  _good_  at it."

"She is really good at it," Scott admitted.

Stiles put his own hand over Scott's, still on his chest. "I — really didn't mean to fall in love with her."

"I can't really blame you, even if I was upset about it. I was in love with her before we even kissed. She's the best."

"Yeah," Stiles said, sighing.

Scott shrugged. "And… so are you. You should be together. I want you to be. Not just… because it's hot. But because I want you to have what you want."

"What I want," Stiles said, faintly. "Oh. The — whatchamacallit, the demon."

"The  _dearg-du._ "

"Right. It tried to tell me that. That should have what I want, and so I needed to pick. You, or Allison."

"It was trying to come between us," said Scott. His voice sounded hard.

"I think, yeah? If you're telling me it knew that we're stronger, the three of us. I guess it thought it could make me choose. But I didn't think that was fair. Allison's not a prize. She gets to choose too, and she said I shouldn't. That I should wait."

Scott nodded. He withdrew his hand from where it rested between them. "I think she must have known what I would say when she told me about how she felt about you."

Stiles held his breath. "What?"

Allison's voice came from the doorway. "That if anybody got to have you, it should be me."

"There is no way Scott said anything that sappy to you," he demanded. Scott laughed, red-faced.

"I, uh. I might have?"

Stiles grasped the front of Scott's t-shirt and hauled him back in, close enough for a kiss, but they were both laughing so hard that they had to wait a couple seconds, gasping and resting against one another, before they could do anything else. Then Stiles turned his head into Scott's cheek, resting his nose against Scott's chin, murmuring, "Yeah," before Scott put a hand over the back of his head and pressed their lips together, for real.

Allison came over and stood beside them a good long time before she made any noise at all, and then it was just a pleased sigh. Scott ended the kiss — then kissed him again, and again, looking completely pleased with himself. Stiles laughed again, feeling light-headed.

"I'm supposed to sleep," he said. "And you guys are supposed to be at school in —" He squinted at the clock. "—seven minutes."

"We're gonna be late," said Scott, still grinning. He kissed him yet again.

"You are really enjoying the fuck out of this, aren't you?"

Allison waited beside the bed until Scott decided he was done. She handed Scott his coffee. Then she leaned over and gave Stiles a much more gentle kiss. "I'm locking the door behind us."

"I promise not to leave this room." He held up a hand in a Boy Scout salute. "I still have to figure out what to tell my dad about why I have bandages on my wrists."

Stiles watched them both leave, holding hands with one another and yet still smiling at him in the most amazing way. He couldn't stop smiling, himself.

He lay back against his pillow, staring up at the ceiling, as he listened to them close and lock the door. He had kisses from both of them on his mouth, and he could still feel Scott's hardness against his leg, and hear Scott's unbelievable words:  _This is cool. Better than that._

Sleep claimed him before he could do anything about how turned on he was. His wrists were aching, but it barely mattered. Whatever the  _dearg-du_  had taken from him, it had more than been replenished by the strength of Scott and Allison's arms around him.


End file.
